His Surprise

Water cascaded off her skin as Cathleen stepped out of the shower, droplets of determination clinging to her body like the cases she so skillfully argued in court. She dressed methodically, choosing attire that wrapped around her like armor—a facade of composure for the daily battles waged within the walls of her own home. With each step down the staircase, her walking stick tapped a steady rhythm against the cold floor—each tap defiance, a declaration of her resilience.

Xavier lounged on the couch, a study in casual power with one leg draped over the other. His gaze lifted as Cathleen descended, and his heart betrayed him, pounding against his will. He hated this weakness, this primal reaction to the sight of her. He hated that his mind was clouded with lust, reducing his world to the most basic of instincts. Cursing inwardly, he grappled with the involuntary surge of lust, a silent war waged between his intellect and his baser needs.

"Follow me," Xavier commanded, his voice a blade